


The Ballad of Bud's Blossoms and Buds

by staranon



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Fluff, Language of Flowers, M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 07:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18734482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staranon/pseuds/staranon
Summary: Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, but there's magic in flowers. They can carry more than just the meaning of love if you know what you're looking for.After a chance encounter while trying to grow monkshood (a flower known for its more potent and dark connotations) Gavin meets the well-reknowned florist Ryan. Ryan has a thing or two Gavin can learn and maybe just a little bit more if Gavin reads deeper into the flowers that like to blossom on Ryan's skin.





	The Ballad of Bud's Blossoms and Buds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tricklesnitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricklesnitz/gifts).



> meet my springfairy fic which was written for teddie on the RT writer's discord. 
> 
> oh man do i love convoluted magic au's

The language of flowers is somewhat a niche pastime. It’s usually reserved for the symbols of love and affection. Since most people just buy a bouquet of flowers as a quick gift for a loved one, no one really puts in the time to consider the deeper meaning behind them. And more often, overlook the magic that comes with flowers. Not everyone can harness the power that comes from flowers and their unspoken language. Because there is power in the most mundane of things. A very smooth stone. A white feather from a bird. Or perhaps a simple garden flower. They can be totems, carriers of magic for powerful spells.

And really good ‘fuck you’ gifts to a certain frenemy.

Because in the right settings and conditions, flowers can carry extraordinary amounts of magic. You just need to find a good florist who knows what they’re doing, which is hard to do because tapping into the magic of flowers is a rare and time consuming process. A lot of trial and error that no one has time or patience for. And in the rush to finding and acquiring the most potent flowers, there is a lot of inscrutable business going on in the flower market. Meaning you don’t know if the flower you’re buying actually contains the magic you think it does and next thing you know you’ve bought a dud and _the meaning intended behind the flower doesn’t exactly make your frenemy’s life any harder and_ —

Flower magic is confusing and fickle and if Gavin could actually know how to garden properly, maybe he could harness that power some day and get back at that one guy with the—

“Having trouble there?”

Gavin looks up and sees a man peeking over his fence into his backyard. Gavin is knelt down in the dirt and shrubbery of his pathetic excuse of a garden, having just yelled at his monkshood for not growing that way he wanted it to.

“You looking for something?” Gavin has no time for pleasantries today. He’s too frustrated for niceties.

“Drainage,” the man says. “Elevate the monkshood so the water doesn’t collect and sit at the bottom of the garden bed. And try a chilling spell during the day when the sun’s out. They prefer cooler climates.” The man then smiles, waves slightly before walking away.

Seeing as he can’t get any worse at this, he takes the stranger’s advice and transplants the monkshood to a planter’s box instead. He doesn’t get results for another few weeks until the plant begins to bloom and all his work pays off in the single blossom of potent monkshood.

Rarely are all flower blossoms full of magic. It’s only in certain conditions. More common in nature than in a garden, but if you care enough about your craft, if you’re patient and dedicated, sometimes it’ll pay off.

Nature magic is always fickle. There is logic behind it, but it’s hard to recreate if you aren’t a florist already, someone who’s born and trained to handle nature magic. But Gavin’s learning. He’s trying. He has the knack for growing and tending to plants. He’s proud to say he’s never once killed a houseplant, so there must be something to that.

Two weeks after encountering the strange man at his fence, Gavin’s monkshood blooms and it blooms incredibly well. He has three blossoms he can work with. Once he harvests them, he takes them to his shed and works them into a small wreath covered in damp moss to keep the flowers fresh until the meaning of the wreath was understood. He weaves the blossoms into three positions, on both sides and bottom edge. The top edge is reserved for a deep purple hydrangea. It matches the monkshood, and Gavin just knows this wreath will carry the intended meaning for his intended guest.

He waits until nightfall, early in the morning around three. He should be asleep by then. Gavin heads out with his deadly wreath and goes to the man’s house. He hands it on the door and lets the flowers work their magic.

_Monkshood for caution. Hydrangea for heartlessness._

It’s a particularly cruel arrangement, but it’s what Gavin truly feels at the moment and he knows it’ll be a bitch of a curse to wash off.

_Michael’s going to be so pissed when he wakes up._

And he totally is because Gavin gets one mean phone call the next day.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you kidding me right now? Do you know how long it’s going to take to get that curse off of my fucking house? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

_Yeah, Michael is mad._

“Maybe next time don’t mess up my office and attach a sticking curse to everything on my desk.”

“It was a joke!”

“Yeah, well so is the wreath!”

The curse the wreath carried is meant to give Michael some pretty rotten luck over the course of the next week. Magical induced flower blossoms are notoriously long lived and don’t wilt as easily. The monkshood and hydrangea will encourage a heavy metaphorical cloud to sit upon Michael’s house until the curse fades naturally unless if he has some sort of agent to neutralize the spell. If he doesn’t, well, everything will probably go wrong for Michael then. Electronics might not work. His car might not start. Even his dog would know something is off about the house. If Gavin really wanted to go hard with this curse, he would’ve included other bad luck omens into the wreath to make that hatred well known, have the heartlessness drain the colours from anything within Michael’s house, but they’d been friends for years. They always mess around with each other like this, but after one unproductive, frustrating day at the office, Gavin decided to payback Michael with what he deserved. One bitch of a curse instigated by flowers.

That ought to show him.

Life resumes a week later and the two friends go back to harmless pranks without involving any hard magic labour like that of flowers. Gavin forgets about the stranger who came by and offered his advice for Gavin’s gardening techniques and continues on with puttering about in his amateur garden, moving into more lighthearted flowers and plants because they’re actually easy to maintain and he likes to treat his friends with bouts of good luck and gifts.

Another two weeks go by and Gavin gets word that another of his friends, Geoff, gets into a car accident. It’s not too serious, but Geoff’s car is wrecked and he’s pretty banged up and left shaken after the whole ordeal, and Gavin wants to get something calming for him. Reassurances and safety to carry him through his recovery and settle his anxious mind.

But because he was obsessed with dark and hurtful flowers and plants for the past three months—cooking up that awful wreath for Michael was worth it though—he has nothing he can offer Geoff from his own garden. So that means he’s taking a trip to a florist shop—to Bud’s Blossoms and Buds.

Bud’s Blossoms and Buds—or B B n’ B or just Buds—is the only florist’s shop in the entire city. It was recently closed when the original Bud decided to retire, which is why Gavin took up gardening in the first place. But it was reopened after a lengthy renovation and a new owner kept the old name. Gavin hasn’t had the opportunity to visit them yet, but after work he heads down towards the part and comes to the quaint store that just backs up onto the park itself. Perfect for a florist’s shop.

The bell on the door rings with his entrance. Behind the front counter is a red headed woman dressed in a Wonder Woman patterned dress. She looks up. “Hi! Welcome to Bud’s. My name is Lindsay. Anything I can help you with?”

There are so many premade arrangements sitting in the windows and along the walls. Plants hang from the ceiling which is partially made of glass to let the sun in. It’s truly an amazing sight.

“Yeah,” he says, remembering to keep walking forward and come to the front desk. “Hi, one of my friends was hurt and I was hoping to get a get well soon arrangement.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry to hear that. We do have a few arrangements over here, centering on the chrysanthemum.” She walks over to a selection of ‘mums for Gavin to look at. He picks up one of the arrangements, but doesn’t really get a spark from it. It’s more than just healing he needs from an arrangement. It’s peace of mind.

“I’m not really feeling it, you know?” he says. “Is there a way I could get like a commissioned arrangement?”

Lindsay nods and takes the ‘mums from Gavin and sets them back down. “Of course! I’ll get the florist for you. He handles all of our special requests.”

“Florist. You mean like—”

She nods. “He works _miracles._ Just one moment.”

She goes back behind the counter and through a doorway covered only by red velvet curtains. It’s gaudy and ostentatious, but it fits into the whole vibe they have going on here. A few moments later, Lindsay returns with a man who has a familiar face. Gavin easily places it to the man who stopped by his fence a few weeks ago to give him advice about his monkshood.

“Oh, hey!” The man’s smile instantly brightens the room and Gavin thinks that five years have been added to his life. “How the monkshood turn out?”

He’s tall with well-defined shoulders. He’s wearing a baseball cap, on backwards, a black t-shirt with dark blue jeans, and to top it all off a forest green apron covered in dirt. With his arms bare like that, one extended to shake Gavin’s hand, Gavin has clear view of the yellow daffodil tattoo sitting on the man’s inner forearm.

“Great, thanks to you,” he says. “Really did the trick for what I wanted.”

“You two know each other?” Lindsay asks, looking between the both of them and smiling.

“Briefly,” the man says. “I was walking around town to settle in and came across him while gardening. I’m Ryan by the way.”

“Oh, yeah, Gavin.”

“Right, Gavin, what can I help you with?”

They move back to the counter, and Gavin lays it all out before. What he’s looking for and what he needs and Ryan is jotting down notes on a scrap piece of paper. Lindsay slinks back behind the red velvet curtains and leaves the two of them to work.

“I think I have something for you,” he says. “’mums are great for hospitals. They encourage natural rest especially if you’re trying to get a patient off of medication, but then we’ll add in a few other things. Cattail for peace and bells of Ireland for good luck. An extra bonus, really. Bells don’t have much to do with healing, but having everything go your way for a week is always nice.”

Gavin is gobsmacked by Ryan’s knowledge of the flowers. That and bells are notoriously hard to grow and ensure that they actually give _good luck_. Because that can backfire easily.

“That . . . that sounds great, honestly. Let’s do that.”

“Sure! It won’t take me long to arrange. I’ve got all the things I need here, so thirty minutes?”

“Yeah, of course. Take your time.”

Ryan smiles, takes the scrap paper with him, and disappears behind scenes. Lindsay comes out to take his place.

“How’d it go?” she asks.

“Brilliant. He’s the best florist I’ve ever seen.”

“I know. He’s great at what he does. His knowledge is very extensive, but that’s what happens when you go off and travel the world to study exotic flowers. Plus being born a florist also helps. He just has a knack for it, you know?”

Gavin spends the next thirty minutes browsing the shop displays and their services. He talks quite a bit with Lindsay and how she’s like Ryan’s apprentice here.

“Well, he probably wouldn’t _say_ I’m his apprentice. Love flowers, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t keep any of my house plants alive for more than a month.”

Ryan chooses this moment to return the display. It’s . . . it’s gorgeous. The yellows of the mums, the green of the bells, and the brown of the cattails create such a simply, earth message. There’s little pomp and circumstance, and after the week Geoff has had, it’s exactly what he needs.

“Three full blossoms,” Ryan explains. “So you know it’s legit. And the rest to just make it look nice wherever it’s placed.”

“Awesome. Thank you so much. This is fabulous.”

They settle the price, which is a bit on the high side, but worth every penny because three magic induced blossoms are not easy to come by.

Gavin bids his goodbyes to both Ryan and Lindsay and heads off to Geoff’s place. He sets the arrangement down on the coffee table in the middle of Geoff’s living room across from where Geoff is splayed out on the couch, dressed in the most comfortable clothing he probably owns.

“Aww, that’s so sweet of you,” he says, taking in the flowers through heavily lidded eyes. He got away without any broken bones, but he’s sore and that’s a bitch to deal with. “Did you grow these by yourself?”

“Oh, nah, this is way out of my league. I went to Bud’s and they fixed me up there.”

Geoff cranes his neck a little, as much as his stiff body will allows him, and takes in Gavin from where he’s slumped in an armchair. “Why, Gavin,” he says, lips turning into a sly grin. “You’re absolutely tickled pink.”

“Wha—what are you talking about, Geoff?” On instinct, Gavin looks at his arms. He knows it’s pointless. He doesn’t see aura like Geoff does.

“Someone got hit by cupid’s arrow,” he adds and laughs when Gavin gives him an exasperated look.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Did you finally confess your undying love for Michael?”

“Yeah, you wish.”

“Then who could it be, I wonder?”

“No one. Have you considered getting glasses?”

The idea of having a love aura like Geoff was saying he did (to which Geoff wouldn’t lie about it ‘cause why would he?) is sort of ridiculous to Gavin. He’s currently not seeing anyone or interested in anyone, so how did this come to happen?

He doesn’t give it much thought in the coming days until a problem in his garden bed involving root rot brings him back to Bud’s with questions. He could just look up something online to discover the reason, but he knows that Ryan would be able to identify the issue. And it gives him a convenient excuse to go visit him and Lindsay at the store.

Ryan’s there, manning the front when Gavin arrives. He smiles when he sees him. “Gavin, what a surprise? How’d it go with your friend?”

Gavin notices that the yellow daffodil tattoo has been joined by a white camellia. “Well enough. You did a superb job with that arrangement. And what’s going on there now? Adding more to your collection?” He points to the tattoos

“Oh,” Ryan says, lifting his arm. “Nah. This is more like . . . a florist thing. Yeah, sometimes the, uh, plants get attached and like to leave an imprint.”

“Imprint?”

“Yeah. Messages, really. Things they want to tell me in their way. Sometimes they fade or sometimes they like to stick around.”

“Yeah? What do they mean then? What are they telling you?”

Ryan taps his fingers against the daffodil. “Daffodils are often the first flower of spring. So they bring with them messages and signs of rebirth. Second life.”

“Rebirth seems a bit odd, doesn’t it? Were you like revived during a medical procedure or something?”

Ryan shifts on his feet. “Not really. More like . . .” He huffs. “Coming to realize that you’re not really who you think you are but someone else. So you start going by a new name, new identity, and sometimes it feels like you’re reborn, you know? Second life as someone new. As someone you know deep down is actually who you’re supposed to be.”

Gavin looks to the daffodil and back up at Ryan’s face. He’s wearing a softness and openness that takes Gavin a bit by surprise. “Oh,” he says because he’s been told something. A personal something. “So . . . when did the daffodil decide to stick around?” He wants to know more. He finds himself intrigued by Ryan— _tickled pink—_ and if he’s new to this area, then Gavin wants to at least be his friend, be someone he can trust. And based on their earlier interactions, maybe that can be so.

“I was a kid,” he says, planting his hands on the edge of the counter and leaning in closer to Gavin. “Thirteen maybe. Miserable. More so than I usually was, so one day I was out in the park, early spring, sitting by a pond, and one of the daffodils brushed my arm and left the mark one me. Took me a while to figure out what it meant, but when I did, I decided I wanted to go by Ryan. That I wanted to be a boy.”

“How did the flower know then?”

“Sometimes plants just know something we don’t. They pick up on things we don’t always see right away.”

“And they just stick around until you get the message?”

“Or when I need reminders. It’s not always pretty. One time I had a forsythia right at the base of my neck for the longest time. And it was only because I was super excited to see my favourite band play and I’d been waiting like a month since the tickets had gone on sale.”

Gavin laughs a little. “What a nightmare that must be!”

“It’s great to have small reminders like this, but sometimes they telegraph a little too much.”

“Yeah, it’d suck if a flower were to, like, tip a friend off to a surprise birthday party.”

Ryan snickers. “It would, yeah. So, uh, what can I help you with?”

“Right.” Gavin shakes his head and brings out his phone to show Ryan the pictures he took of the roots of his plants. “Some of them started wilting not too long ago and when I dug them up, I found this.”

Ryan takes the phone from him and swipes through the photos. “I’d say you have a sprite of some sorts living in your backyard. It probably burrowed into your garden and started leaching the energy from your plants. Mischievous thing, by the looks of it. Buy some hot peppers, crush them in water, and use a spray bottle to douse your garden beds. Sprites hate heat.”

“Brilliant.” Gavin takes the phone and begins to leave before he turns to look over his shoulder. “Hey, um, if you ever want to just hang out or something.”

“Yeah. I think I would. Might want to leave your number, though.”

Gavin could smack himself. He hastily digs his phone out of his pocket, and they exchange numbers.

“See you around, Gavin.”

“Yeah, bye, Ryan.”

Gavin forgot to ask about the camellia. He’s not that well versed in all flowers and plants and their hidden meanings, their magic. It’s more of a hobby for him than it is a profession like Ryan. For Ryan’s help with the sprite issue and the root rot, Gavin pays for their coffee outing. _It’s not a date, Michael. We’re just friends._ As Gavin comes to learn, Ryan has a sweet tooth, so whenever he has spare time, he swing by Bud’s with a box of donuts for Ryan and Lindsay, which they both appreciate.

The flower marks on Ryan’s skin continue to change with a meaning that Gavin isn’t privy to. From the camellia to maidenhair to white ivy. Ryan seems a bit embarrassed whenever Gavin asks about them. He explains it by saying he’s been in a good mood lately. Bud’s is doing well. He’s finally happy with the layout of his apartment furniture.

“And that’s what all that means?” Gavin asks, gesturing to the gardenia that is creeping onto Ryan’s arm. They’re in the back room of Bud’s. Ryan and Lindsay have been spammed with an order of springtime weddings and Gavin offered his help on a Saturday so they could get it done. He’s mesmerized with the way in which the flower blossom of the gardenia turns towards Ryan minutely when he gets near so that the petals can drag along his skin and leave their mark, their message.

“More or less,” Ryan says. “I’m surprised you don’t know more about the language of flowers considering how much work you put into that wreath.”

“Well, yeah,” Gavin says. “I was more interested in, you know, the bad flowers. The ones that could make my friends’ lives absolutely miserable if needed.”

Ryan snickers. “You must have some colourful friends then.”

“You should meet them yourself and then you’ll see. Then you’ll understand why I did what I did.”

“Maybe I should.”

Gavin looks up from the bouquet he’s putting together. Ryan is smiling. He looks away when Gavin looks up.

“Right then,” Gavin says. “As soon as you and Lindsay are caught up, we’re going out for drinks. You, me, Lindsay, and my asshole friends.”

“I look forward to it.”

When Gavin invites Michael and Geoff out, they immediately begin to grill him about the special someone he’s been spending time with. Geoff won’t stop going on about his ‘aura’ and how it all makes sense now because the pink means he’s in ‘lurv.’ Gavin chooses to ignore the both of them and simply tells them both a time and a place.

On the night of their outing, they get a group table at a basic pub and eatery. Nothing too fancy. Introductions are made, and Geoff takes a shine to Lindsay and her sense of humor. Ryan immediately pegs Michael as ‘the wreath guy.’

“Oh, so he told you about that?” Michael says, slapping a heavy hand down on Gavin’s shoulder. “The wreath was a bitch to deal with, but if the situations were reversed, I’d do the exact same thing.”

They put in their order for food and get to talking about everything that they do, any forms of magic they’re susceptible to. It makes for good conversation. While Lindsay may not have any knack for floral magic, she is an amazing artist with a good eye for colour palettes. Michael is more or less of the trickster variety. His magic is neither good nor bad, but it is a nuisance when it decides to make itself known. And then there’s Geoff with his aura detection, never stops giving Gavin _a look,_ whatever that means. As always Gavin decides to ignore Geoff and just focus on having a good time with Ryan.

After they’ve squared away the bills, they head out onto the street, intending on making their way back to their vehicles and then respective homes. Ryan and Gavin naturally fall behind the others.

“Thanks for setting this up,” Ryan says. “I really enjoyed myself.”

“’s no problem at all,” he says. “The guys really liked meeting you. And Lindsay,” he adds as an afterthought. “You and Lindsay, really, not just you.” He’s rambling and tripping over his words, but he hopes Ryan understands.

“I enjoyed meeting them,” Ryan says. “And I’m sure Lindsay did too.”

They get to their cars and finally make their goodbyes. Gavin steps away from Ryan’s side at last. The evening as come to a close and now it’s time to go back to their day lives.

“Nice meeting you guys,” Lindsay says. “And don’t be strangers.” She waves and Ryan heads off with her to her car while Gavin gets into Michael’s car with Geoff.

Once they’ve buckled up and head out onto the road, Geoff snickers up front. “Oh, dude, if you could only see what I see.”

“Lay off it, Geoff,” Gavin says, closing his eyes and resting his head against the car seat.

“Pink and green,” he says. “You two get along so well. I wish you would just confess your feelings for each other already. _God._ I cannot handle it if one of you guys goes bright red again.”

The thing is Gavin knows what Geoff is talking about. When he talks in colours, it means something is really obvious. Obvious enough for him to bitch about it until they come to accept whatever it is that makes them so . . . _colourful._ So when he says ‘bright red’ he means bright red as in _sexual tension._

“What? So I’m in love with Ryan and Ryan’s just . . . crushing on me?” Gavin says.

“Yeah,” Geoff says in a doting voice. “It’s like you two are in high school. It’s pretty great.”

Gavin decides not to say anything more on the matter and keep his mouth shut. He—yeah, okay, so he likes Ryan. He likes his company. He likes it when he talks and goes on about the plants he grows—the few he keeps in his house for pet projects. How he thinks of getting a dog because it’s lonely in his apartment and he’s always loved animals. He always asks about what Gavin’s doing whether it’s at his office or in his garden, always wanting to offer help. And . . .

Okay, he’ll admit. _Maybe_ there’s something there, but it’s a bit too early to tell.

For the most part, Gavin doesn’t do anything of the budding _something_ that exists between them. He still goes out of his way just to see Ryan (and Lindsay, of course, _I’d never forget you, love_ ). And he does notice whenever Ryan seems to perk up just because he’s there. How he’ll invite him into the back of Bud’s to help on a new project and it feels like it’s their little secret even though Lindsay is right there to see it all.

Seeing the continuous flower changes on Ryan’s arms, Gavin decides to do some research into the language of flowers, beyond what he’s already done for the purpose of fooling around with Michael. His knowledge is very narrow focused and it’s time to broaden it.

He buys a book online because he’s sure it’ll come in handy more than once than just to decipher the language on Ryan’s arms. When it arrives, he recalls the latest flower he’d seen on Ryan’s arm. It was like a rose, a rosebud really, but the focus was on the stem and the delicate shell of the bud. As Gavin looks through the book, he comes to the rose section and reads about rosebud moss.

Because people are more interested in the full blossom of a rose, they often overlook the moss of it, which is short lived and delicate and if you can get magic out of it, then you really know what you’re doing.

_Rosebud moss, the symbol of confessing one’s love for another._

Ryan has never confessed any sort of feelings for Gavin in this way, but that’s not the point. He’s said the flowers are trying to tell him something, something he doesn’t yet realize himself.

Gavin decides to sit on this new information for a while. If Ryan wants to tell him something, he will. He trusted Gavin enough to tell him out the daffodil and what it meant to him, the comfort he got from it at a young age when everything had been so confusing. So he continues to visit Ryan when he’s working on weekends, bringing him a treat from the closest café—he doesn’t drink coffee, so Gavin only gets one for himself. It’s a slow day at Bud’s. It’s gray and raining softly, keeping most people inside, so the low traffic in the store gives Ryan ample time to make sure everything’s set up in the back room.

The most populous flower in the back greenhouse is the rose. And with Mother’s Day rapidly approaching, Bud’s is absolutely packed with them. There are very few that have blossomed yet. Ryan’s set a preserving spell in the water to keep them fresh up until the orders come flooding in. But there’s one blossom that’s fully out, a deep red, the symbol of love as true and as simple as it can be. Ryan plans on using it for a practice arrangement he can take a photo of and set it on Bud’s website and in the display window out front.

“Do you ever encourage any magic in these then?” Gavin asks. He’s entranced by the red rose, how velvety soft the petals look.

“Not unless they specify,” he says. “And then it costs extra because that takes a long time.”

Gavin drags his fingers along the rose and takes another sip from his remaining coffee. He takes a step back when Ryan comes by to collect the rose with the other flowers he has for the arrangement.

“Hey, that’s cool,” he says, setting down his bucket. He takes Gavin’s hand in between his and brushes over the growing red stain on his fingertips.

“Hey! What’s that?” It takes him by such surprise that he didn’t notice it until Ryan pointed it out.

“Flower mark,” he says. “Just a slight one, though. Probably won’t full form, but congrats, Gavin. You just got kissed by a flower.” Ryan smiles so brightly and drops Gavin’s hand to pick up the bucket and move to the work bench.

Gavin is left to rub at the red marks on there of his fingertips. If he holds them together, it makes the image of a single rose petal.

_Love._

He can’t deny the feeling anymore. He’s just wondering if Ryan is willing to reciprocate it at this moment.

He walks up to Ryan’s work table and leans against him, holding his hand up and looking down at it. There’s a matching red rose on Ryan’s bicep. It’s been there for a good week now.

“Experts say a red rose is a declaration of love,” he says.

Ryan smirks. “Experts? Who have you been talking to?”

“Just you, the only expert I know.”

“Then I’m _really_ going to disappoint you when I mess up one day.”

“If,” Gavin insists. He drags one of his fingers across the full rose blossom on Ryan’s arm. Ryan then turns to look at him, reposition himself on his stool, and take Gavin’s hand. “I was thinking,” he says. “That maybe you’d like to go out for dinner. Just you and me this time. No tagalongs.”

“No chaperones,” Ryan adds, earning a soft smile from Gavin. “I think I’d like that.”

“Nothing too serious. Maybe like dinner and a movie?”

“A classic.”

“Yeah, well, I do want to show you a good time.”

Ryan rubs his thumb over the petal marks on Gavin’s fingers. “And I have no doubt that you will.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me @staranon95 on tumblr for more writing and musings


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